The Impressed Soldier
by Parfois Marguerite
Summary: For Alfred F. Jones, an American Merchant sailor, the wars in Europe seemed too distant to matter. Well, at least until he was forced to serve as a soldier in the Navy of the British Empire. Now under the command of Captain Kirkland, Alfred has to survive fierce encounters with the French Navy and cruel punishments if he's ever going to find his way back home. (Historical AU) USUK
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there, friends. I'm happy to present my fourth long-term Hetalia fan fiction, . The story takes place in September of 1810, during the Napoleonic wars and two years away from the War of 1812. During this time period, as well all know, Britain was in a war with France. At the time America was 'neutral' with both nations. However many Americans, especially Democratic-Republicans, wanted to go to war with Britain. One of the reasons for them wanting to go to war was because the British Navy, in order to get more soldiers to fight off France, would 'impress' American merchant sailors onto British naval ships. Impressment was the practice of Britain's Royal Navy of sending officers to board American ships, inspect the crew, and seize sailors accused of being deserters from British ships. **

**Anyways I hope you all enjoy the story! **

Alfred was used to sleeping through noises, most people on the ship usually were. Those who came aboard and weren't yet adapted to anything but hushed silence were forced to learn differently. Eventually the reverberation of the ships wood swaying back and forth, slapping against the already shifting seas, became the tempo of an ambient lullaby. The gentle murmur of the wind was the melody and the occasional taps of boots above deck, the lyrics. Alfred had come to appreciate the music the sea made for him. Every night somehow brought a different tune. However, no matter how different it was from the night before, the music was always gentle and pleasant.

Tonight, for the first time in Alfred's life, it wasn't.

The tempo and melody were hushed against the new sounds that erupted in various areas of the ship. The unusual racket began to swell up in volume, the previous harmony that had soothed Alfred to sleep now began to wake him. At first it was subtle, as if the gentle hand of a lover was faintly shaking him awake causing him to gain consciousness. It didn't take long for the sounds to become callous to his ears, startling him.

A surge of panic rushed through his body as he jumped into an upright position on his bunk. As Alfred's eyes adjusted to his surroundings, it was obvious to tell that he wasn't the only mariner that noticed the obvious disturbances above deck. Men scrambled about the room, some trying to put their clothes on while others tried to make their way up to the top deck. Some, mainly the younger men, were alarmed. They stumbled over the bunks and called out to buddies in trembling voices, asking what the hell was happening. The rest seemed irritated as they staggered their way around the room, muttering profanities under their breath.

Alfred's hand shout out and seized the nearest man by the wrist. "What's going on?" As he brought the man closer to his face, Alfred noted the uneasiness in his eyes.

"It's a ship, a British Great Frigate." Blinking, Alfred slowly released his grip on the man's wrist, letting him stagger away and out of sight. He could hear people shouting from above deck, ordering the men to get up there.

For a few seconds he was hesitant to move. The men wouldn't be awoken at such an hour if was simply just a ship passing in the night. Several theories surged through his mind, each one of them brought a greater feeling of apprehension. If it really was a British ship, one belonging to the Royal Navy then they may have a bit of a problem. Despite the fact that they were just American merchant sailors, men who had nothing to do with the wars in Europe or even war in general, the British and even the French Navy were like a shadow hanging over their heads.

Alfred, like the rest of the men, never thought much about the possibility of being halted by either one of these nations' ships. Of course they heard the stories of ships like theirs being harassed by the British and the French and they certainly weren't apathetic towards it. If anything they were the type of common people that were the most outraged by it. However, Alfred and the rest of them knew that they couldn't fear the possibility of being one of the stories they read about in the paper. The stories of men stolen away from their ships, forced to work in the British Navy. Simply put, they chose to ignore their nagging worries.

Groaning, Alfred rubbed at the corner of his eyes. A sharp headache was beginning to form at the front of his head. He hadn't been asleep for more than four hours and he guessed that some of the men on board had been asleep for less. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed before stretching his arms out over his head, stopping after hearing his joints crack. It took him only a second to find his shoes from under the cot, he grimaced as he ran his hand over the sole of the right shoe. He had almost forgotten about the hole that had gradually grown in size over the past month. He would have to buy a new pair soon. Shaking off his frustration, Alfred began to put the ragged shoes on. By the time he had stood up from his bunk, the majority of the crew had already left.

"Are you still here Alfred?" Peering into the darkness, the shape of a familiar young man caught Alfred's attention. The man, no boy, was desperately trying to pull his shirt on as he teetered his way closer to Alfred. Eventually he was able to identify the boy as being someone he had the pleasure of talking to on a few occasions. He vaguely remembered his first name, Finney. His last name was a mystery though. To Alfred, he wasn't exactly the most memorable guy. Especially since this was the boy's first voyage, being only sixteen years old. The same age Alfred had joined on at.

"Yeah just woke up, and you?"

"Same, didn't notice anything happing till some guy fell on me, trying to put on his shoes." Finney scrunched up his nose, recalling the memory. "I guess you're the type of guy who can sleep through a typhoon, right?"

Alfred grunted, running a hand through his hair. "Something like that."

"Do you know what's going on?"

"Something about a British ship."

The boy's chest expanded as he took in a sharp gasp of air. His eyes widened slowly as he repeated the statement in his mind. All evidence of drowsiness had faded from his face. Alfred squinted his eyes at the man, making sure what he was seeing was true. Alfred shook his head at him, he understood that a boy that young and new to this type of life would have such a reaction. Although Alfred wasn't all that old either, only nineteen since July - which was hardly two months ago.

"Don't worry Finney, you'll be fine. I'm pretty sure they only take men suspected of desertion."

"A-Alfred?" He whispered.

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

". . . Never mind."

. . .

Alfred took his time getting above deck even though he and Finny were the only ones that had yet to come up. Maybe it was the part of him that doubted that they were in any real danger and that the lads keeping watch mistook the ship as belonging to the British, which caused him to not to be alarmed like the others. Finney kept a steady pace behind Alfred, purposely trying not to get in front of him. Glancing behind his shoulder, Alfred observed the sullen gaze Finney gave the ground. He didn't notice Alfred looking at him as he chewed on his bottom lip. A strange feeling ran up Alfred's spin, not exactly a chill but more of a tickle, as the boy brought his thumb up to his lips and started biting at the skin. He turned his head away from him, setting his sights back on trying to maneuver his way to the top deck.

His brother, Mathew used to bite the skin near his nails, sometimes even biting the nail itself. For the most part it happened when they were young. At the time he never understood why his brother did things like that. It wasn't till he was older and away from Mathew altogether did he understand why. When they were little, Alfred had a knack for getting in trouble. Mathew was almost always around him when he did these things. Alfred always made his brother promise not to tell on him, begging and pleading with him even promising not to do something like that again.

_"Don't tell her, don't tell her!" Alfred clutched the ends of Mathew's shirt, bringing it to his damp cheeks as he stared up at his brother. "Momma will hate me if she found out. Please Mattie don't tell her!" Another wave tears came flooding down his reddened face. At the time, the two boys were only four years old._

_Mathew swallowed back a lump in his throat as he stood frozen against Alfred. His big, strong brother. The only person who stood up for him when the bigger boys tormented him. The only person Mathew looked up to, was bawling into his shirt. "A-Alfred." He placed his hand on his shoulder._

_"I won't do it again, I promise I won't ever take something again that ain't mine. Not mamas, not yours, not that mean old lady next door. Just don't tell on me!" He began gasping for air as he wailed louder._

_His bottom lip trembled as he watched Mathew bring his hand up to his mouth. He always chewed on his thumb first and continued from there, ending at his pinky. ". . . Fine." He whispered, looking away from his brother._

_Sniffling, Alfred wiped at the corner of his eyes with the cuff of his own shirt. "Thank you, Mattie." Slowly he stood up from his position, smiling at his brother. Within a second he engulfed him into a hug. Mathew, however, was reluctant to hug him back._

_"Just remember Alfred, I won't break my promises unless you break yours."_

_"Of course."_

He shook off the memory knowing that he couldn't think of something like that right now. Thinking of Mathew would only make him nostalgic and at the moment there were more important things to be thinking about.

A sharp gasp from behind had Alfred stopping in his tracks. "Damn it," He said under his breath. "Guess I won't be going back to sleep anytime soon." The two of them had stopped moving when they had gotten above deck. Any hope that this whole thing was a big misunderstanding vanished into thin air. There was no denying that the ship before their own, was that of the British Navy.

In front of them, stood the rest of their shipmates. Alfred had to peer into the distance to see who the men were facing. At first he thought it was the captain, about to give them orders regarding the other ship but it became obvious that wasn't the case. Finney must have realized it first for he had already begun backing away towards the stairs when it had clicked in Alfred's mind. The people the men were facing, were not his captain and the first mate but a set of British officers inspecting the lot of them.

"Hey," He whispered, craning his neck around to look at the shivering boy. "What are you doing? Don't let them think that you're scared." Alfred had never liked the British especially those that served in the Navy. What had started as an aversion for them based on his own fathers beliefs, grew into a severe animosity once stories of harassment of sailors like him started coming out. His brother had never understood why his brother felt so strongly towards a group of people who he had never meet before. Alfred at the time had told him that he just didn't understand. That he didn't see things the way he did.

Alfred believed that if Mathew was able to stand next to him and see what he was currently seeing, he would have a change of heart. With a frustrated sigh, Alfred caught Finney by the ends of his shirt and started pulling him away from the stairs and closer towards the others. Luckily, neither the officers nor the sailors noticed them moving up towards the rest of them. To them, Alfred and Finney had always been there. Now that they stood closer towards the foreign men, Alfred was able to get a better view of their faces.

The officers looked at the Americans almost as if they were the cargo. Items that could be taken, used and replaced. Their blasé gazes didn't consider the humanity in any of them as they inspected the unorganized lot. Standing off to the right of the British, were the Americans' own captain. He was an older fellow by the name of Anderson, a man who had been working on the water his entire life. The crew had always admired and respected their captain for many reasons. Despite his position, he spoke to them as if they were equals. He wasn't soft by any means though. The man was a snapping turtle, unpleasant if provoked.

It was odd, no disturbing to watch the Brit's get away with provoking a snapping turtle. "So . . . This is everyone?" Blinking, Alfred looked towards the man who had broken the silence. There were approximately eight British officers, seven of them stood still in attention. One of them, the man who had spoken up in the first place, paced back and forth in front of them and the Americans. Alfred's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he identified the rank of that particular man. Given the way he dressed, there was no denying that he was the captain.

Alfred's captain was old, this captain was young, too young. Alfred shook it off though, guessing that he was probably older then he looked. ". . . Yeah." Captain Anderson had hesitated to reply back. When he did his voice was low and gruff, the respect he showed for even the lowest of his crew was not evident in the way he replied to the nameless captain.

The infuriating pacing slowed down, but much to Alfred's displeasure, didn't stop. With a snap of his fingers, the captain motioned for two of his own men to come closer. They complied within seconds. Alfred couldn't hear what he told the two men but once he finished speaking, the two of them immediately pushed past Alfred and the rest of the Americans. It became evident what he told them, for they both went below deck. "I hope you don't mind." Everyone knew that it didn't matter if Captain Anderson minded or not, why the Brit even bothered to say something like that was beyond the Americans.

A few of the men in front of Alfred shifted out of his line of vision, giving him a better view of the Brit. He was certainly scrawnier then the American, a bit shorter too. Alfred had always believed that captains were large, strong men. The type that had gained their position from extensive amount of hard work. Captain Anderson may have been a captain but he certainly wasn't any cleaner or better dressed than his own crew. Part of that may have been due to the fact that they were simple merchants, not confined to a military dress code. Still, the nameless captain was well groomed from head to toe. No untucked shirt, grubby shoes or unshaven face.

Alfred rolled his eyes and presumed the man to have gotten his rank from connections. He was probably the son of a wealthy business owner or an aristocrat. Captain Anderson was an orphan and Alfred had been born into a lower middle class family. "I'm guessing you and your crew would like an explanation as to why I have stopped your ship?" The American captain didn't bother to answer with a yes or no reply, he chose to give a simple nod instead. It didn't matter if the Brit said it or not, they all knew why their ship had been stopped. "Well before I get to that, I would like to start off by saying that I am Captain Arthur Kirkland of the HMS Talbot." The crew could care less about who he was, they knew why he was here and what he wanted. They just wanted him to get it over with. "I'll just get right to the point then. We're simply looking for British deserts that may be on this ship. If we do find deserters, rest assured that the rest of you who are in fact Americans will not be prosecuted." For some reason Alfred found himself doubting that statement.

The captain had neglected to mention what happened to those who were found guilty of desertion. Though, if they really were British deserters then they already knew what awaited them once taken back. The American crew wasn't large, most of them knew each other to an extent. Alfred knew these men, or at least believed that he did and to him a person had to be an idiot to believe that any one of these men were anything but Americans.

Alfred bit his lip, suppressing a groan of aggravation. With a simple motion of Captain Kirkland's hand, the seven other officers that had been standing still now began to move. At first they had walked around the Americans as if there was an invisible bubble around the crew, keeping them from getting closer. To Alfred they were vultures, looking for the dead man among them.

"Are they even looking for deserters?" The gravelly voice of a man standing behind Alfred spoke in a whisper loud enough for him to hear.

"Look at them, I bet they're just going take any men they want. Don't matter to them if we're American or not." Instead of vultures now Alfred saw them, the British, as men and they, the Americans, as pigs. The type you raise for slaughter. The question was which one of them had the most meat.

"This is complete bullshit."

"Who the hell do they think they are?"

"Why the hell haven't we declared war on this bastards yet?"

"It's because of Jefferson and Little Jemmy, that's why."

"There's no way Captain would let one of them Brits serve on this ship, deserter or not."

What had begun as whispers grew in volume as the officers slowly made their way closer towards them, inspecting their faces and figures as if being an American or Brit was something you could detect by a person's body. Alfred was almost certain that the crew would begin to cause an uproar, no longer caring what would happen to them. Part of him began to envision them as the turning point in this current administration's policy of neutrality. If the Chesapeake and Leopold affair riled up people before, then the story of them, the brave American sailors who valiantly tried to fight off impressment from the navy of tyrannical empire would be icing on the cake. The final piece to cause a much needed war. It was time for them, the underdogs, to finally stand up to the schoolyard bully.

Alfred could see it in the eyes of his fellow Americans now that the British officers stood only a foot away from their group, that they too would not take this. That's right, Alfred thought, poke the bear see what happens.

"Phineas Hall," The collective murmuring died down instantly upon the words of one of the officers. He was a bulky man, somewhat older then the Captain himself. A glimmer of sly amusement was in his eyes as he looked in Alfred's direction. At first Alfred thought that he was looking at him despite the name that had rolled off his tongue. It wasn't until a startled yelp meet his ears.

"Finney?" He turned his head around to look at the boy.

"Please . . . Alfred, help." That's all that could pass through the boy's lips as two officers pushed past the group of men and seized him by his arms.

"Isn't this a funny sight, not only did we find a deserter but a deserter of our own ship." The officers erupted in laughter as tears began to pool at the corners of Finney's eyes, threatening to fall. It was as if an abused puppy had just been captured by its abuser after running away to its freedom.

"That ain't true!" The laughter came to an abrupt halt at Alfred's outburst. "Finney . . . he isn't British, he joined up with us when our voyage first started in Massachusetts. He was born and raised in New England, right." It had been crucial to him that he spoke with confidence, passion and even defiance. For the most part he had been able to do that but at the end, right when looked towards the boy asking him to validate the response, he crumbled.

"Have you even travelled around New England, Alfred?" He whispered in a low voice. Finney knew that the only reason Alfred believed him to be from New England was because that was what he had told him in response to a question about his accent. Alfred blinked before shaking his head. The only time he had been in New England was when they stopped there for short periods of time. He like the majority of the crew, was from the South. "People from there, they don't speak like me."

The laughter that had been on pause resumed once again, this time boisterous. The type of laughter an adult would give in response to the antics of a child. "The boy can't even tell the difference between his own people and a foreigner!" The only thing that Alfred could be thankful for at the moment, was the darkness that concealed his reddening face.

The laughter only died down once the boy had been dragged down the deck, towards the plank that connected the two ships together. There wasn't a damn the men could do to stop. It was in that moment when they parted down the middle, letting the officers drag Finney away, did Alfred realize that they weren't going to start a fight. He had thought they were feral dogs, ready to fight but that was just a façade. They were nothing more than common house cats, acting as if they were the most feared member of their home.

The British officers were eight of many more men compared to the Americans. The Americans were Merchants, the British were soldiers. Their military belonged to that of a respected and feared nation, they belonged to a nation that was only thirty four years old. In other words, they couldn't do shit.

Finney had long since disappeared below the deck of the other ship and all the men, including Alfred, had been questioned and asked for proof of citizenship. Captain Anderson had to consider himself lucky that the British seemed ready to leave and had only taken that one young boy. He had heard stories of the British coming onboard boats like his and taking not just quite a bit of men but most of their cargo as well. Maybe that was something to be thankful for.

A light cough from next to him, snapped Anderson from out of his thoughts. "Thank you and your men for complying with our search. I understand that it must have seemed rude of us to have awaken you all at such an hour."

"You're leaving now, right." Anderson interjected before Captain Kirkland could continue, wanting nothing more than for his ship to once again become Brit free.

"It would seem that way, yes." Alfred watched the officers depart the American ship for their own. Good riddance, he thought. If there was something that Alfred hated more than losing, was losing without even putting up a fight.

Now all that remained was Captain Kirkland, a name no one on board ever wanted to hear again. While the crew watched the two Captains speak, waiting with their patience running thin for the Brit to finally leave and depart, no one noticed two of the officers being stopped by an unknown soldier before they could disappear below the deck of their own ship. They only noticed the two when they came back on board and ran up towards their Captain. Alfred was never in the military but something told him that it was rude to disrupt your own superior officer's conversation.

One of the officer's whispered something into the Captains ear that made him turn away from Anderson, a smile playing on his lips. "Oh really?" Was the only thing they heard pass from the Captains lips before he began approaching the crowd of men once again.

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to inconvenience you and your Captain once more but it has come to my attention that there is one more among you that is not who he says he is." A series of murmurs erupted once more among them, Alfred wasn't one of them. His eyes were narrowed towards the man who acted as if taking a person against their will was a right that he as a Captain and a Brit, had. Captain Kirkland, like the officer who had discovered Finney, gazed in Alfred's direction.

Alfred turned his head to look at the poor man who would be the next to join the Finney among the Navy of the Empire of Great Britain. It wasn't until he turned around to be greeted with empty space did he realize that the Captain, a man he had never seen before until today, was looking at him.

**"It's because of Jefferson and Little Jemmy, that's why."- First off, 'Little Jemmy' is one of the nicknames of James Madison. It was mostly given to him because of how short he is, being only 5'4. From Washington to Jefferson, the U.S had maintained a policy of neutrality regarding Great Britain and France. These Presidents knew that another war with either country wouldn't benefit the U.S. seeing as the country was just starting out. It wasn't until Madison declared war in 1812 did the U.S finally get rid of that neutrality. The story, however, takes place in 1810 before Madison decided to declare war. **

**If any of you have any other questions regarding the history surrounding the story, feel free to ask me. **


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter was a lot shorter than the last one. Hopefully, the rest of them won't be the same length as this one. Any way's I want to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed the story. I don't have to explain anything history for this chapter but I will for the next one. **

**I hope you all like it!**

"Alfred Jones," the name rolled off the Captains tongue as if he had said it many times before. The men around him began to step away from Alfred, collecting into two groups on the left and right side of him. At first he was speechless, although, it wasn't because of a lack of words. The numerous amounts of responses, insults, and curses tried to pour out of his throat all at once; like water in a blocked pipe.

By the time he was finally able to say something intelligible, the two other officers had already made their way to him. The shock he felt totally evaporated the moment the two nameless men seized him by the arms. "Who the hell do you think you are," never in his life had Alfred ever spoken in such a harsh tone to anyone, "I'm American, I-I've got papers to prove it!"

The two men snorted, catching his attention. "Papers don't mean anything, boy." For a brief moment Alfred considered wrenching his arms free and fighting the two off. It wasn't as if he couldn't pull it off, Alfred was visibly stronger than the both of them. However, even a stubborn guy like him knew that it would be futile. The two of them were armed, unlike him. It would be ridicules to try and start a fight when no one else was on his side.

Alfred briefly remembered how they reacted when he tried to defend Finney as an American. Less than an hour ago, they had accused him of not knowing the difference between his own people and a foreigner. Now it seemed that they too couldn't tell the difference either. Especially if they thought that he was another Brit like them. "That's bullshit, those papers are the same as everybody else's!"

The man on his right tightened his grip on Alfred's arm before tugging on it. Both men knew that Captain Kirkland would only become more annoyed if they continued this banter with the boy. Besides, the likelihood that the other men would try to do something would only increase the longer they stayed on the ship. "Thompson, Norwich," Alfred guessed that the names that came out of the Captains mouth where that of the two men holding him. "Take him away." Although the command was spoken softly, his statement left a ringing in Alfred's ears as though he had screamed it.

The looks his fellow crewmen gave him as he was dragged across the deck didn't seem to matter to Alfred anymore. Each and every one of them knew that they were witnessing an act of unlawful oppression. Some of them would even try to convince themselves that Alfred was indeed guilty of desertion, which would justify their lack _of _actions. However, no matter how many times they tried to tell themselves this, they would never believe it.

The majority of the crew had already disappeared below deck by the time that the British departed. Only a few stuck around to watch as the ship sail away from them, heading eastward. Tomorrow, the crew would wake up and resume their regular tasks. No one would openly speak about Alfred and Finney, it would seem as if the two never existed.

To Alfred, they were cowards.

. . .

Captain Kirkland stayed behind on deck to watch the American ship disappear out of sight. Due to the darkness of night-time, the other ship was gone within minutes. Arthur, however, didn't make a move towards his cabin. "I know you're there." He didn't turn his head to look at the person he was addressing; it wasn't as if he didn't know who it was. "You might as well come over here and talk to me, I know you want to."

A few silent seconds passed by before the tapping of boots could be heard among the splashing of waves. Arthur smiled as the man joined by his side. "How did you know I wanted to talk to you?"

Arthur snorted, "I find it highly unlikely that you came up here for an evening stroll." From the corner of his eye he observed the other man's expression. It wasn't much different from the one he typically worn, the only other difference had to have been the obvious concern in his sleep-deprived eyes. "Besides," The Captain set his gaze back towards the ocean "I find it rather strange that you knew that the boy was a deserter without even seeing his papers."

"I-"The other man was silent after uttering only one word.

"Do you know him?"

"Yes."

Arthur waited for an explanation to follow the response before realizing that there wasn't any. "Is he really a deserter?" The other man flinched at the impatient tone.

". . . No, he's not."

"You do understand that I prefer _not _to take innocent men."

The other man sighed, "Now that you know the truth, do you plan to let him go?"

Arthur hesitated for a few moments, contemplating his options. He had recently lost a good number of men to the French navy and was in need of more. "That depends on one thing." The Captain turned to look into the other man's eyes. "Is he actually an American?"

"Alfred Jones," the other man found it strange to utter that name after such a long time "is and has always been, a British subject."

. . .

It was already noon by the time Alfred had woken up; this was the first thing he realized. The second thing he realized was that he wasn't in his usual cot and that the events of last night were not a cruel nightmare. The third and final thing he realized was that he wasn't alone.

He was slow to sit up; an uncomfortable ache from the back of his head reminded him of how he had 'fallen' asleep last night. The first thing he did once he opened his eyes was take in his surroundings. It was obvious to tell that this wasn't the quarters he was used to. Rather than decent sized cots, rope hammocks and straw beds littered the entire area. However, the men who usually slept in them were not in sight.

Well, except for one of them.

The other man had been sitting silently next to Alfred, waiting for the American to wake up. Alfred had his gaze turned away from him when he first woke up, much to the disappointment of the man. However, the disappointment he felt wouldn't last for it only took Alfred less than a minute to notice the man.

Both of them went wide eyed at the sight of each other. The list of things that the man wanted to say to Alfred when he woke up disappeared into thin air causing Alfred to be the first one to speak up. "I- . . . You . . . W-what the." Out of shock, The American scooted away from the other man while pointing a shaky finger at him.

"Hey Al, It's nice to see you again."

"This better be a goddamn nightmare!"

The other man ignored Alfred's rude response and continued on. "I know this may seem strange . . ." He trailed off.

"This can't be fucking possible!" Alfred began to stand up from the ground causing the other man to do so as well.

"It's a rather long story and I'm hoping you'll listen to what I have to say-"

"Why are you here?" This time the statement came out as a whisper.

"In the end, I'm hoping you'll realize that-"

"Please . . . this can't be real." Alfred's legs began to shake along with the rest of his body. Before he knew it, he couldn't even keep himself from collapsing onto his knees.

"What's happened is a good thing." The other man was determined to say everything that he wanted to say even if Alfred didn't seem to be listening to him. "Al . . . when you left, I didn't see you for years." The man's fists began to clench tighter, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. "Things got bad and . . . and I couldn't stay where I was any longer so I-I left. I didn't think I would see you ever again."

Alfred didn't dare look up towards the other man. The last thing he wanted to see was _his_ brother, Matthew, trying to justify why being forced into the British Navy was a good thing. Not long ago, Alfred had thought that he would be happy to see his brother again.

He was wrong.


End file.
